


Elder Guard

by TheOnlyHuman



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Old Guard (Movie 2020) Fusion, Alternative Universe - Not Witchers Witches or Aldermen, Assassin Jaskier | Dandelion, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Blood and Violence, Competent Jaskier | Dandelion, Dragonfly is a Feral Cat (The Witcher), Gen, Graphic descriptions of violence, Gun Violence, Immortal Dragonfly (The Witcher), Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Immortal Letho z Gulety | Letho of Gulet, Immortal Merten (The Witcher), Immortals, Jaskier's team are essentially the old guard but named the elder guard, Letho has a Warhammer, Mentioned Vesemir (The Witcher), Merten likes to blow things up, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, POV Third Person, The Witchers Are A Policing Assosiation, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26027359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOnlyHuman/pseuds/TheOnlyHuman
Summary: When shit hits the fan, there's one team that can be trusted to get the job done.Meet Jaskier's team of immortals: the Elder Guard. They're all bloodthirsty fuckers.(Inspired by the 2020 Old Guard movie)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	Elder Guard

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: mention of cults, explicit language (swearing/vulgar terms), mention of drowning, implied PTSD, blood and graphic violence, implied child abuse/neglect, mentions of death,

The dusty Zerrikanian bunker was decrepit and old, falling apart at the seams. The doors were warped metal, buckled tight to wall and hinge alike. A few boots at it didn't get it to budge so Merten stepped forth, compact mini in his hand and blew the wall apart so the hinges weren't there to be annoying anymore. With the dark night sky as their cloaks, the team swept into the underground room, battery torches firm on their guns.

Once, a long time ago, a man died only to wake up the next morning. He dreamed of others lives as he slept and he'd later find out those others also dreamt of his. They knew his first death - nicknamed the Awakening by a spectacularly drunk but poetic Letho - and he knew theirs.

Merten, their bomb specialist, otherwise known as Manticore, had died to an infection. He'd scratched his knees on a tree when he'd toppled into it, drunk, and the scratches had festered and spoiled him with fever not a day later.

Letho, the muscle of the group, preferring to go by Kingslayer after a lucky hit in the late eighteen-hundreds, had been Awakened as a boy, lost and held captive by kidnappers who'd thought they would get away with stealing urchins off the street. By far, Letho was the youngest of their small group of four, though he acted nothing like it.

Dragonfly, also accepting Kitten and Cat (but never Pussy), was batshit crazy and specialised in the pain aspect of life. She'd been raised as an assassin for an underground cult and by chance, Jaskier had found and killed her whilst sweeping through their ranks. It had been a shock to see his own face grinning at him that night and to feel the panic it sprung deep in his chest; the dream had told him enough, and he'd returned the following day to find the blonde woman elbow deep in gutting a deer.

Jaskier himself had drowned. It had been his father to do it, leaving him under the water only to drown once again after his Awakening. It had hurt and the feeling of water in his lungs burned on the bad days - even if everyday seemed to be one. People liked to call him Viper or Snake, probably due to the slitted serpent eyes he was born with. He was the information gatherer, the blackmailer, the silently nominated leader of the group due to his age and couple hundred years of being Awakened before the other immortals.

Because that was what they were. A small but powerful team of four immortals, four people who couldn't die no matter what happened or however much they wanted to. The few circles that knew of them referred to them as the Elder Guard, seeing as they'd protected a smaller church denomination's elders during a raid somewhere in some country that now had a different name, the event being one which made headlines - the elders and their mysterious protectors. Those elders, all aging men who liked a bit of wine, had been sworn to secrecy after they'd seen Dragonfly take a bullet to the head and stand back up again. None of them were kicking anymore and so those that knew of them and were alive was a sweet zero.

Except for the WITCHER Association. Those old bastards knew something was up, probably with how their accounts of Jaskier and his team members never changed despite the centuries. Although they were nice enough to send contracts their way sometimes when they were just a bit _too_ much for their policing units to do without immediate backlash from the twenty-first century public. Of course, these jobs were gleefully accepted, Dragonfly taking great pleasure in showing off how she seemingly wasn't aging as she fingered the lines and winked at their cameras.

In the present, somewhere in Zerrikania, amidst the dust and sand and death, this very team stepped into a cement bunker that was significantly cooler inside than it had been in the clouded air outside. Jaskier stalked forth, not even needing to motion for the others to surge beside him.

The room was large, entirely wrapped in the darkness that clawed at their torches' beams. It was eerily silent. His hairs stood on end and he dropped to a crouch as the air shifted. Around him, Letho and Merten - those closest to the walls - dived towards the cement as Dragonfly took cover behind his back. Jaskier kneeled and accepted the fact he was her human shield as the soldiers poured out of the cracks and opened fire.

Gunfire snapped around them, reverberating in Jaskier's eardrums. His body shook with it, bullets piercing vital organs and digging through skin. Blood splattered from his mouth as he sagged, the shouts of his boys echoing in the hollow space.

"You good, Boss?" Dragonfly murmured. The git was still behind him, using his slouched form to duck behind sporadically as she twisted and threw knives at the men who got too close to Letho or Merten, switching up to using her gun when she ran out of sharp pointy things. Letho had drawn his warhammer and Merten was swinging about his longsword. Jaskier's fingers scrabbled for his gun before he deemed it a lost cause and let his fingers fall lax as he healed.

"Never been better," he hacked, spitting up the bullets that had gotten lodged in his lungs. The ones pressed into his skin popped out, clinking onto the floor as he took a deep breath. Bruises followed the wounds for all of a moment before the skin smoothened out and his veins returned to normal. Jaskier righted his head in time to see a lone soldier making a mad dash for the door, heading straight for them.

Dragonfly huffed in his ear and rocked back.

He lunged, knocking the man onto his front as his fangs slipped into his hands. The soldier screamed, a broken afraid sound that made him all hot inside, and Jaskier slit his throat. Standing to the gurgles of blood spilling from the opened vein, he grabbed one of the stragglers and gutted him, gloved fingers gripping at the organs that slumped out and strangling the man with his own intestines.

Someone clapped behind him, another person whistled. He turned and glared at his blood-stained teammates as they stood idle amongst the carnage. Blood was everywhere, painting the walls and the ceilings, brain matter and bits of organs spewed out as if shot from a party rocket. Letho's warhammer dripped red from his back-belt sheathe. The handle of Merten's sword was stained a permanent brown, now flicked with red as he swiped at the blood on his face.

"Making up for the shield thing, are ya?" Letho snorted, giving an appreciative eyebrow raise as his eyes flicked down to the man Jaskier had just downed. The room was silent now, aside from Dragon cooing over her retrieved blades as she bounced about, collecting them. Merten cut his whistle off by biting his tongue after being on the receiving end of Jaskier's glare.

"Uh, we got them all," Merten reported, mindlessly kicking away a body as he swept the room, darting from Jaskier and Letho as he walked along the walls. He paused at a particularly bloodied spot, smirking down at a decapitated head as he crouched to finger the seams of the wooden front. "Hidden door over in the corner, Boss."

"Make yourself useful and open it," he snapped, mildly irritated the others had had all the fun.

"Aye, aye."

"Kinda pathetic how some WITCHERs got caught by these guys," Dragonfly piped up. "I thought their special _cops_ were decent at combat."

"Somewhat," Jaskier hummed, idly cleaning off his dirtied blades on a clean-ish patch of a soldier's shirt. Whilst he did this he checked for any dog tags, coming away with a familiar pair. "These boys are old Covert Ops. Probably had enough gear to subdue them."

Merten asked, "Why go after them, though?"

"Who doesn't want pretty toys?" Jaskier echoed a not-quite answer. "I thought you were getting the door open, M?"

"Done. Ta-dah!" The man took a step back as his miniature explosive quietly blew the sheet of wood off and bared a ragged entryway to them.

"I coulda ripped that off," Letho grunted, squinting at the waste of materials.

The door led into a long narrow hallway, murky and dark. Jaskier stepped forth, absently shaking a bullet out of his trousers as he squinted into the oblivion. Dragonfly joined him, pushing him his abandoned gun. The torch flickered on again after having gone out at being dropped, and he shone it into the long corridor, noting the soil and root walls.

"Seems like an add-on," he said, specifically remembering the WITCHER documents of the bunker had not hand this area marked out. Too dangerous for their men to enter and save their own, Vesemir had contacted Jaskier through a secure channel and offered up a hefty sum of money for an intact retrieval.

_"Doesn't matter if they're already dead,"_ the greying haired man had said, voice gruff but tone a little less harsh. _"If that's so, all we need are full coffins."_

Jaskier hoped the WITCHERs were alive. It was awfully hard to drag five dead bodies out of a desert bunker.

"Let's get a move on," Letho snarled. "I'm hungry as fuck."

"Think we can get tacos?" Dragonfly chirped, gliding into the extension. 

"If we evac within the next ten minutes I'll see what I can do," Jaskier said.


End file.
